This was it. The day that we finalised the divorce. The papers had come through on Wednesday. Friday we had a dissolution ceremony, in the morning, a place to rescind our vows, make new promises to each other no longer as husband and wife, a way of separating in spirit what had been joined in spirit.

We melted down our wedding rings. I brought a bottle of champagne. We made awkward conversation. I had an un-bridesmaid who took me off to lunch where we drank more champagne, ate really good food. And then hooked up with some more friends to go climb on the rollercoaster at Ratanga Junction. Another act to embody the symbolism of what my angel-friend had been telling me – that this journey was a rollercoaster and I needed to make sure that my hands were up all the time. So rolling off the coaster, we staggered home, and wondered how to celebrate next.

A party, yes. A chimurenga (liberation) party, even better. Recovered from our ordeal, off we trekked to the party space, a swaying tent in a courtyard, heavy reggae music, and a determination from my side that on my first night of freedom as a new single woman, there was no way in hell I was going home on my own.

I wanted to know what it would be like to be with someone new after 11 years of one partner. I wanted to know how comfortable I could be with my body in a strangers hands, lips, arms and eyes. I wanted comfort, I wanted acknowledgement, I wanted affection.
Who did I find but an old admirer at the bar, someone I had consistently turned down due to my married status. It didn’t take much to convince him to come home. He lit a candle, and meandered his way across my body, my lips. He was so skinny, my husband had been solid. His nakedness was a revelation of elegance. His penis tilted to the side, it was all new. He was gentle, attentive. I was surprisingly comfortable, I realised how sensual I could be, how little emotion sex required, and how different it could be. I think I may have cried. Condoms were re-introduced into my life.

Sex, easy, sleeping impossible. He fell asleep in my bed, and I couldn’t stand him being there, so I decamped to the couch, luckily I had an early flight to catch so I could kick him out without too much engagement about why.
I was very pleased with myself.

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